Reminisce Tonight
by Miss Information
Summary: The Malfoys and the Weasleys stand apart on a lot of things, but the two households aren't necessarily as different as they seem to be.


Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

A/N: This is the first time I've tried anything HP-related: I'm much more of an X-Men fan. Still, I felt the impulse to throw this together. Make of it what you will - it's a stand-alone little bitty. Despite the class, ideology and socio-economic differences, I just think that the Malfoys and the Weasleys really aren't that far apart in _some_ aspects. Told from both angles, to appease both they that eschew the Dark side as well as those self-hating Muggles out there.

Love it or shove it.

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**Reminisce Tonight**

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"That locket you're wearing...I gave it to you on our tenth date."

"No...you gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday."

"That right. I took you up to the Astronomy Tower to gaze at the stars."

"We skated over the frozen lake, dear."

"Really? Oh...right."

The stout redheaded woman smiled and shook her head over her knitting.

"It was a still evening, wasn't it?"

"If by that you mean 'blowing a gale'..."

"Your robes were blue..."

"I wore a red sweater."

"Ah, now I remember it!"

Molly tsk, tsked under her breath and set down her knitting. Her husband was watching her closely from his seat by the fire, looking both puzzled and put-out even though he smiled - it was an expression she'd never seen on anyone else, except perhaps Charlie and Ron. "Really, Arthur...you've just compressed four different occasions into one memory."

His smile became sheepish. "Yes...well. I'm getting a little rusty, I'll admit."

"Well, you have reasons."

"Age?"

Molly shook her head, leveling a stern but humored stare his way. "No, dear. Stress, perhaps. But not _age_." She smiled along with him and rose to her feet, coming to sit on the arm of his seat. "Besides, you've still got the most important parts of those memories in your mixed up little mind, there."

"I do? What are they?"

"Three things - each of those memories revolve around you, me, and an occasion you've gone out of your way to make special." Molly smiled a light, faraway smile for a moment, turning her eyes to the fireplace. "It doesn't matter that you can't remember what I wore, where we went or even what the _occasion_ was, dear. I can remember those things for the both of us. But _you_ can remember what counts - you know when you made me feel special, and you know that those silly things still matter to me. Your stress at work and your fascination with all things Muggle might distract you from keeping things straight all the time, but at least you and your muddled mind know what's important to me."

Arthur smiled at her affectionately. "Molly, you always seem to know just what to say."

"Oh, not always." The matronly woman ran a hand through her husband's thinning hair now, still smiling as she did. "Though I would appreciate it very much if you stopped thinking that I was already sixteen by the time we had our tenth date. I was thirteen, and you'd better not forget it. By your memory, that would make me currently fifty, and I don't want to be that old just yet, dear. Especially not in _your_ mind."

"Ah, Molly - to me, you'll always be the bossy girl I couldn't work up the courage to talk to until I was fifteen."

She rankled slightly. "Harmph. _Bossy_, was I?"

"Oh, very much so. You still are, you know."

"Well! How would you like it if I remembered you for the rest of our days as the gangly boy who would spend hours talking his friends to boredom about the lengthy mechanics of how Muggles craft their pottery without magic, but who couldn't even _look_ at a girl without turning as red as a cherry-flavored Bertie Bott's Bean?"

Arthur only laughed and pulled his red-faced, ranting wife over the arm of the seat to sit in his lap. "I'm sure that's how most of Hogwarts will remember me anyway, dear. Head-in-the-clouds Arthur Weasley, who got the most outstanding grades in Muggle studies and the bare minimum in everything else."

Molly 'tched', though she was smiling broadly again. "Well, _I_ don't remember you that way. That's how I thought of you when I first met you, though, but..." She sighed wistfully. "I'd sooner remember you as the boy who followed me into the library every day for a week, then got nervous and fled when I asked him to reach for a book for me."

He laughed again. "You were very intimidating, despite the fact you were so short then."

"Was I? I couldn't keep my head on straight around you back then. I dropped things when you looked at me; I couldn't hardly speak above a whisper to you; I couldn't look you directly in the eye without turning beet-red, for Merlin's sakes..."

"You still do, sometimes." He tugged at one of her frizzy curls affectionately.

Molly laughed. "Like last week. On our anniversary. A lovely, quiet dinner with just you and I, and I was so swept up again that I was acting like I did on our first date."

"Now, I can still remember _those_ occasions." Arthur leaned back in his seat. "Our anniversary. Dinner in London. You wore those new pale green robes I bought you. The air was a little cold, but that just meant you held closer to me." He smiled. "I remember _that_ well."

"Well, you ought to - it was only last week, dear."

"And I remember the day I asked you to marry me...the most harrowing day of my life."

"_What_?"

"I didn't mean it like _that_, dear. It was just that your expression, the pause after I'd gotten down on one knee and all that. For the most horrible moment of my life I thought you were going to say 'no' and flee. You looked positively horrified."

"Really? I wasn't _horrified_, though. I was just so...surprised. Nothing else had gone right with that date...I was just waiting for you to jump up and laugh it off, saying it was all a big joke."

"Well, that would've been what I'd done, if you'd said 'no'."

"Just as well it never came to that - you're a horrible liar. You always were."

"You wouldn't have believed me, then?"

"Probably not, dear."

"Ah, well. It never came to that, did it? Thankfully."

Molly wound her arms around her husband's neck and tucked her head into his shoulder. "I could've never said 'no', Arthur."

His arms encircled her waist. "Thank Merlin. I wish I'd known that back then. I probably wouldn't have agonized over it as long as I did. D'you know I spent two months trying to work up the courage to ask you?"

"Two months? You never said that. You said it was a 'spur of the moment' idea."

"Well, it sort of was. But of course I had to have been thinking about it - I had to ask my father for the loan to get you a ring, didn't I? And I had to have it with me for the occasion. But..." Arthur wrinkled his nose up slightly. "It just suddenly came to me. I'd started taking the ring with me every time I went to see you, just on the chance that I saw the perfect opportunity. Then, on that date, all I could think when we were walking down the lane after dinner was how remarkable you looked under the full moon, and how content you were...and how content _I_ was, too. And I was thinking that I never wanted the night to end, that it was amazing and that nothing could make it better...then I remembered the ring in my pocket, promising to make the night perfect, and before I knew what was what I was on bended knee..." He smiled broadly as Molly drew back to meet his eyes. "And the rest, as the Muggles say, is history."

"And you were worrying about your memory..." She returned his wide smile, blushing slightly. "You remember that more vividly than _I_ do!"

"I do?"

"Yes! You see - that was one of the more important moments we shared, dear. And even if you don't remember everything about it, you still can recall what counts. So what does the rest matter?" She tucked her head back into the crook of his neck and smiled contentedly as the fire crackled nearby. "That's an odd turn of phrase, dear...'the rest is history'. Very odd."

"Hm? Yes, well...Muggles also came up with the idea of 'killing two birds with one stone'."

"_What_? That's _barbaric_!"

"That's exactly what I thought, dear, but - you see - it's just _metaphorical_..."

---

"I don't think I've seen that dress before."

"You have - I wore it a month ago."

"When?"

"To the Parkinson's, for dinner."

"I thought that was only a few weeks ago."

"You were in Paris two weeks ago, dear. Ministry business."

"Oh yes. That's right."

The blonde woman raised a perfectly arched and slightly critical eyebrow at her husband through the reflection of her cheval mirror, but she smiled.

"I've taken you with me to Paris before, haven't I? For a holiday, when I wasn't working..."

"For our first anniversary, Lucius."

"Indeed. I gave you emerald earrings, didn't I?"

"That was for my twentieth birthday."

"Then...?"

"A diamond necklace."

"Ah." The snowy-haired man sighed heavily, sitting on the edge of their bed and watching his wife. "I'm getting _old_, my love."

Narcissa laughed lightly as she unpinned her hair from the elaborate twist it had been held in all night. "You're barely in your forties, dear," she reminded him. "You hardly qualify as 'old'. Although if I were you I _would_ look into your family's health history a little better when you next get the chance. Hopefully this deteriorating memory of yours isn't hereditary."

Lucius narrowed his eyes, but smirked. "_Narcissa_..."

"Oh, don't take that tone. You know very well that I'm only playing with you." She smiled at his reflection in the mirror, picked up a hairbrush from her dresser and began to run it through her hair. "Really, dear...you've taken me to so many places, given me so many gifts, made so many nights spectacular...surely it's expected that you were eventually going to begin having trouble distinguishing one occasion from the other?"

"I supposed you might be right. Though I wish I knew _why_."

"Well...there _is_ a war looming over us. You didn't forget that too, did you?" Narcissa put down her hairbrush again and turned to face her husband with a wicked smile. "Oh, don't look so put out. You're simply preoccupied. The truth of the matter is, I can probably only remember those trivial details because I spend my life these days between insipid, gossiping lunches and keeping the accounts of the house - it's hardly stimulating. Of course my mind takes me back to those occasions - of course I'm going to remember them more vividly than you do. You're at the Dark Lord's right hand; a general in his army. You have far too much on your mind to be stuck in the distant memories of our past."

"Does that upset you, though?"

"Well, it _would_ if you didn't have an excuse." She breached the space between them and passed a cool hand over her husband's cheek. "All that matters to me is that you still look back on those things as fondly as I do, even though you don't remember them as well."

Lucius caught her hand, stood, and kissed the tips of her fingers. "There will be other days in Paris for you and I, my dear."

"And I expected nothing less." She tweaked his nose affectionately. He stood the assault with a tolerating grimace. "Of course, I don't expect those things to happen _now_, or even soon. You have far too much to worry over. I can content myself with what time you can allow me, and spend the rest in my memories while I pass afternoons arguing with your accountant and pretending to listen to Mrs. Flint while she complains about her daughter-in-law and lack of grandchildren."

Lucius turned sardonic. "Call me presumptuous, dear, but I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that you're _bored_."

"Oh, how ever did you deduce my carefully-hidden secret?" Narcissa sighed and rolled her eyes. "You're ever the charming bastard, Lucius. You'll never change, will you?" She didn't seem too upset at the idea, though.

"Of course I won't. Neither will you - you're always going to be icy flower you were when we first met."

"Quite probably. You haven't forgotten how _that_ transpired, have you?"

"The day we were first introduced? I don't think I could forget it if I tried. It was in the Slytherin common room, and it was Bellatrix who introduced the two of us. I managed to get Rudolphus to distract your sister so that I could take you to one side, out of the earshot of the vulgar herd that had massed in the room." He shook his head and shot a slight, lop-sided smile at his wife. "I'd never been turned down on an offer for a date, until that day."

"I'd _heard _about you, and I'd been warned what to expect. It was high time someone had put you in your place, I figured."

"And I can remember the first time you _did_ let me associate with you in public..."

"...your family's annual Christmas ball, in my sixth year at Hogwarts..."

"...you _slapped_ me."

"Well, _you_ should've kept your hands at a respectable point on my waist when we danced, dear."

"I can also remember very clearly the day I asked you to marry me." Lucius smirked arrogantly. "Quite possibly the only time in this lifetime that you were ever caught off-guard, my little wife. You gaped at me for a full ten seconds before demanding to know if I was joking. Very unladylike."

"It was _unexpected_ - we'd barely been dating for a month."

"You could've caught _flies _if you'd had something sweet in your mouth at the time."

"Well, what about _you_? You looked terrified, as if I were pointing wand between your eyes."

"Hm. It took me up until I actually presented that ring to you to realize that you'd given me absolutely no indication that you thought we could make a suitable match. You hadn't even given me a definite reason to believe that you even _liked_ me in the slightest."

"I hadn't?" Narcissa thought back. "I thought that I did. Subtle signs, yes, but they were there..."

"My dear...subtly is a game I play well when _I'm_ being the subtle one. I can exchange veiled insults with the best, as well. But I'm positively stumped around you. I was always second-guessing your actions and words for their meaning. On our fifth date, I believe, you kissed my cheek - I spent the next _two days_ agonizing over that, trying to determine if it were a token of affection or merely a friendly gesture." He raised a brow. "If I'd had less dignity you would've had a broken man on your hands from that night."

"Then thank Merlin for your insufferable dignity."

"_Insufferable_, you say, dear?"

"Mm. If I'm going to be your icy flower for the rest of my life, I'll make _certain_ to remember you as the insufferable bastard who lorded around the school, talking down to his peers and patronizing all the girls who blushed and fretted over him..."

"You never did either of those things, come to think of it."

"Not while in your presence, anyway."

"_Really_, now?"

Narcissa regarded her smirking husband with a cool, blank stare. "Yes, really," she told him tonelessly. Then she laughed. "It was _years_ ago, Lucius."

"You know..." he began slowly, "...now that you mention it, I _can_ recall the first time I ever saw you blushing..."

"...You can?"

"Yes. It was at our wedding, when I first took your hand before the rites were read. You peeked up at me from the corner of your eye and blushed so brightly I thought that the red of your face would stain your dress."

Narcissa made a mouth at him and gracefully sat down beside him on their bed. "You were staring at me," she said defensively.

"I'll concede to _that_, since you more or less admitted to blushing." Lucius took both of his wife's hands in one of his own. "And I can remember your hand shaking in mine throughout the ceremony..."

"I was...slightly dizzy from the heat..."

He smiled wickedly. "Yes, I know _I _certainly find November to be a rather warm month..."

"_Oh_...!" Narcissa snatched her hands away and narrowed her eyes. "Sometimes I think you get me started on these things just to annoy me. Worried about your memory, indeed! You remember one of the most important occasions in my life more clearly than _I _do!"

"Surprisingly, my dear wife, it was an important occasion for me too. Of course I'm going to remember it."

"Well, then why would you bother getting worried about the other, smaller occasions?" Narcissa shook her head. "So long as you don't forget them entirely, what does it matter that you can't remember what you bought me for my twentieth birthday? Why would either of us care that you can't remember where we went for our first anniversary? So long as you don't forget the dates themselves, _I_ certainly don't have a problem with you forgetting the details."

"Then you _don't_ think my memory is deteriorating?"

"_No_. You're simply preoccupied."

"Well...good."

"Indeed. Now, are we going to discuss your unhealthy intake of caffeine next, or shall we go to sleep?"

"_Excuse_ me, Narcissa...?"

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End file.
